


agape

by Leocht (mayibetriumphant)



Series: The Motherlode [1]
Category: Revenge of the Sith - Fandom, Star Wars, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, star wars: revenge of the sith
Genre: Also canon doesn't exist here, F/M, Finn is a Skywalker and Rey is a Kenobi, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayibetriumphant/pseuds/Leocht
Summary: "So tell me how long, love, before you go and leave me here on my own/I know that I don't wanna know who I am without you."In which Obi-Wan is a debatable hypocrite, and workplace relationships don't work out.





	1. please don't dissipate

**Author's Note:**

> Edits made on 10/29 to title, structure and wording.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So tell me how long, love, before you go and leave me here on my own/I know that I don't wanna know who I am without you."  
> ~Agape, Bear's Den

He was perfectly content to lie there for the time being. Moments like this were few and far between with both of them being generals in the GAR and members of the Jedi High Council. Though they definitely weren’t going to be the latter in a few months. Oh, Mace was going to be furious. Or disappointed. Either way, his wife would be heartbroken by her old master's disapproval.

But for now, Obi-Wan wouldn't worry about that. Depa was asleep, nestled securely between his body and the wall, a stray piece of hair over her mouth fluttering with every breath. She looked much younger, Obi-Wan thought, when she was sleeping in a simple, pale yellow tunic rather than layers of brown robes. Honestly, he missed the colors she used to wear. She favored dark blues and red and wore a golden clip in her black hair before the war. Now it was tucked away in her trunk with the few other pieces of jewelry she owned, including her wedding ring and nath. She argued that a uniform was even more important now that they were at war. Would her body be easily identifiable otherwise? Force, that’s a horrible thing to think about. Especially since she _had_ nearly died just a year ago on Haruun Kal. At least she wasn't as foolish as he was, and had body armor commissioned upon waking up. It was actually quite genius of her to turn a weapon that was used against her into something to protect her on the battlefield. Of course, she wasn't eager to be shot or slashed again to test it out. Obi-Wan hadn't seen it for himself, obviously, but he'd heard Mace recount his tale of the Korunnai warriors on his home planet and their impervious gauntlets. He hoped for her sake that her theory worked in practice.

It was early enough that Caleb would still be asleep, and her quarters were quiet save for the murmurs of the Temple’s machinery. He shifted the arm under her head so it wouldn't fall asleep. The other rested just between her hips. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the beginnings of a new, unique personality in the Force. Not quite strong enough yet to be distinguished from hers by just anyone, but there and theirs. Another reason to end this war--their son or daughter deserved to live in a galaxy without such widespread terror.

On mornings like this, it was easy to imagine them living somewhere comfortable and bright. Never the Temple, but somewhere naturally green and simply decorated. They had to work, but they were happy enough with Anakin and Ahsoka nearby. Their yet-faceless little impression in the Force would cling to robes and legs as it tried to find its footing. Caleb would lay on the floor with yet another logic puzzle. And Depa would smile, bright as Alderaan’s star--brighter than she had in years, and--no. Such fantasies couldn't be entertained so soon. Not when they didn't even know how the war would turn out. He’d avoid admitting it for as long as possible, but he was terrified of the future. He already knew he was destined for sorrow, but hated to think of what that meant for his little family. It was more likely that his wife would be killed and buried while he was gone on a mission, halfway across the galaxy.

No, it didn’t bear thinking about. Obi-Wan would...just have to enjoy what he could while he could with what time they had together. He missed this when he was away. He missed her when he was gone. This war had taken so much from them over the past three years--the past decade, even--and he worried it would take more. He slept alone for more than a month after the Rako Hardeen incident, then she was comatose for another six months. They both had ten times as many scars as they'd had when they first met, inside and out. But what worried him most were the ones she carried on the inside. Those he feared might never heal.


	2. the back and forth, the battery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I am not afraid to die  
> And you are crouching at my door  
> And suffering is all there is to gain in life  
> Then what is all this waiting for?”  
> -This Will End, The Oh Hellos

Sometimes when he slept, he could feel her fingers on his face. Always a little cool, and roughened from years of saberwork. He loved her hands. She could plow through any enemy with them just as easily as she could comfort her son, make too much tea out of habit when he was away, or help repot the many plants in the apartment they technically shared. Her lips would brush over his forehead, but never his lips while he was asleep, and he’d pretend like her long hair didn’t tickle his nose. Most of the time, when one couldn’t sleep, they left the other to their rest. She was worse about that than he was. If she couldn’t  _ feel  _ that he was breathing, he wasn’t there.

Deepika was a practical, pragmatic woman most of the time, but painfully kind. Obi-Wan laughed to himself as he filled the only clean cup full of water. Quinlan sat on his back once until he promised not to tell on her for keeping a litter of tookas in a back room. She fell asleep in class for the first time while she made sure the poor things didn't starve or get too cold. Luminara propped a book up in front of her face, but she was still reprimanded.  He's...still unclear on what happened to the kittens exactly. A few weeks later, they were gone. Then Deepika (who only cried a little), brought her three best friends out for ice cream. It wasn't like they didn't have ice cream or pie in the Temple, but something about sneaking out made it taste better. And Dex, the owner’s son, remained a friend for years. Is he alright? Does he wonder what happened to Master Kenobi and his friends?

Sometimes when he wakes in the morning, he can see her. The sun on Tatooine is brutally hot and bright. A very effective alarm clock. The sun shines on her dark skin and hair, and he can just barely see the curve of her belly. They'll be parents in just a few weeks.

And that's when he wakes up on his empty bedroll. Again. He feels so  _ robbed.  _ She always did tell him he was prone to self-sabotage, but what did he do to deserve this? Yeah, sure. He made mistakes, but everyone does!

_ Not ones that kill a whole crèche full of younglings _ , she tells him.

“Don't you have somewhere else to be?” No, it doesn’t. It’s not a ghost like Qui-Gon or the ones on Dathomir. It’s his fault. His doing. Just like more things than he’ll admit are. Like Anakin. The Council should never have assigned them to each other. Of all the times to finally listen to Qui-Gon! But he could have been better to him. Better than his own Master was to him, at  _ least! _

_ But you weren't _ .

“I know.”

“Now all you can do is waste here.”

He throws his empty cup at its head. “Shoo.”

The cup bounces harmlessly off the packed clay wall. He can almost hear the swish of another set of long, brown robes as it walks toward him. But spirits and imaginary figments can't possibly have mass, and don't make real noise. He knows because he recorded a conversation, and only heard his own voice.

So, this is madness? Obi-Wan laughs bitterly. It took this long? He's probably been here, alone with nothing but his imagination and some plants for...for months now. A long time to be totally alone for someone so used to being surrounded by  _ life  _ even while on campaigns. Why  _ is  _ he left out of everyone else? Why couldn’t he be scolding his daughter for playing in the greenhouse now? Why isn’t his wife grumbling at him for stealing the blankets? Maybe the desert nights wouldn’t be so cold without her. It was different being at war, when he knew he could come back to her. Even when she was in her coma, he could hope she would come back. Is it better or worse that she did? 

“I...I can't live without y--without them.”

“Then die. Isn't that what you want, anyhow?”

“I  _ can’t _ die.” Who would train Luke?

“Maybe it's more than time the Jedi died out.”

“Now isn't the time for this conversation.” He's heard it too many times.  _ She  _ used to say so all the time. Once or twice through tears, but most times completely sober in bed or a corner booth at a crowded bar where they could blend in. The black-lights made her the whites of her eyes glow, Obi-Wan remembers. Once when she was drunk, she laughed for half an hour straight at the way his whole body glowed. It wasn’t  _ his  _ fault he got his mother’s silver-white skin, she said. Just like it wasn’t her fault to have her beauty go to such waste with the Jedi. She gave him an embarrassingly sloppy kiss, and thanked him for picking up the slack before passing out. Quinlan still has the-- _ had _ the pictures. Or was it Luminara? It was--

The specter mimics his posture. “If not now, when? If you're so miserable, then why not just die? There's a hundred thousand ways to do it here.”

It was someone’s birthday. Not theirs. Was it Quin’s or Nara’s? His own birthday has come and gone again. Depa was comatose for her most recent birthday. Neither of them got anything. They did for the first two years of the war. It gave them a sense of normalcy. He knew she “secured” a holocron for Caleb’s birthday. It didn’t do him much good. He died just hours after turning thirteen, at last. He'd never use the starmaps they carefully researched for him.

“This isn't like you. Leave me alone.” Depa could be incredibly blunt and hurtful, but she was never so intentionally cruel. 

She believed every life had a purpose, even before her son. Maybe she was wrong about something for once.  _ Nobody can avoid death or their fate through any natural means, _ she told him. She traced his chest when she spoke. He didn’t want to ask if she could feel shatterpoints. There probably weren’t any. He’s alive, after all. Did he cheat her out of her life? How many others has he cheated to have avoided his own fate for so long? Natural means, natural means. Did Anakin know they all had to die for this?

“Isn't it? We've been this way for years. Since Caleb and Qui-Gon. Anakin. Mace was your friend too. You were passed over  _ so  _ many times, weren't you? And now Death herself has abandoned you, just like everyone else. You've never been enough, have you?”

“Not you. You’re still here, despite it all. I just can’t seem to get rid of you, can I?” Obi-Wan retorts.

It makes a familiar expression of surprise that melts into a grin. “At least you're clever. That's why she enjoyed you.”

The exhausted man glares at the graying ghost. Force, is that really how he looks now? “I don't have to listen to you. My wife didn't abandon me.” If they were to split, they'd come to a mutual agreement once nothing could possibly work. 

They  _ had  _ tried that once, but it turned out that they were both just nineteen year old idiots with poor communication skills. Her smile when they both realized their stupid mistakes was gorgeous. He's sure it was. But the memory is old and blurred. Her teeth were white, her lips were painted purple, and her skin was dark. Depa was certainly the more eye-catching of the two of them, even with his silvery skin. Memory Depa holds the clip he gave her. Simple, golden, and custom made to restrain her thick braids.

He looks over. The specter is gone. It always disappears when he gets lost in his memories. He sighs. He hasn't cried once somehow. Not when Barriss died, or when Bail offered to take the girl, and he had to tell Padmé he'd take the boy elsewhere. She didn't trust him. It was in her eyes. Luke looked so much like his father--would he be rid of him? Padmé had no clue about the niece or nephew she lost. Obi-Wan had wanted so desperately for a daughter. A dark haired, dark skinned and maybe blue eyed little girl to pester Caleb while he tried to do homework. For his wife to rock to sleep, and for him to carry to the greenhouse on his back. The few young parents he's seen this far out do that. He's far from being young for a parent, but it's the  _ simple  _ things. The simple things he’ll never be able to do.

His nights are sleepless because his daughter is dead. Not because she's colicky or crying for food and comfort. Because she died before ever crying for the first time and being--ugh, there's no point. And if the war hadn’t ended, she would've been as good as lost to them the way Caleb was for most of his life. It makes him shudder to remember Deepika’s cries as he passed the medbay all those years ago. Her pleas and cries to get him back, to be able to hold him  _ just once _ were gut-wrenching. She never truly recovered from that, even if she forgot it all.

It was supposed to be happy this time. The little hats he worked on were probably still tucked under his mattress. Speaking of mattresses though, it was time to sleep.  As well as he could. anyhow.

He reaches instinctively for his lightsaber when he hears a speeder putter to a stop outside. Likely not an Imp, then. They'd try to catch him unaware. There's already two wannabe Sith taking extended naps in what counts as his backyard.

There's a soft conversation going on outside. He catches snippets. Owen? Owen and someone else.

“Go on, see what it is. Maybe he's sold you out the way he should've.”

“...sure? He's a bit off his rocker.”

Of course, of course.

A Core accent? “I will be fine. Thank you for your help, Mr. Lars. I could not have gotten here without you.”

_ No… _

Owen is boarding his speeder again to leave when he all but falls through his door. It can't be--

“Ben?”

A tear falls down his face at the sight of his sandy, but ever-so welcome wife. “Deepika?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so it's been like six months, but I have college as an excuse, I guess? Also, retail is soul-sucking, so there's that.

I was following the pack  
All swallowed in their coats  
With scarves of red tied 'round their throats  
To keep their little heads  
From fallin' in the snow  
And I turned 'round and there you go  
And, Michael, you would fall  
And turn the white snow  
Red as strawberries in the summertime  
-White Winter Hymnal, Fleet Foxes  
Side note: weeks in the GFFA are ten days.  
-/-/-  
She lay face down in the grass with a smoking hole in her back. Grey thought he might be sick.  
“What are our orders?”  
Her hand twitched. He knelt beside his General’s body. She struggled to lift her head up for just a second, before finally breathing her last. They'd really laid into her, but he shouldn't have been so surprised she hung on for so long. Billaba was remarkably strong, and had...reasons to live. She lived for them. For her precious young Padawan, and for her Order.  
He closed her eyes. Why? Why did they do this? General Billaba was a traitor to the Republic, and to the Chan--Emperor. And yet, all he can think about is Haruun Kal. How she gave her life for them. Mygeeto and Grievous and Stance’s burial and Da-Nasun, and Lutorn, and Dantooine--but good soldiers follow orders. Even if it meant doing what was right. Right. Was it really right to be doing this?  
“Sir?”  
“Move her body, will you? By those rocks, see? The sun will cook her in a few hours and make the whole clearing reek.”  
“Sure, why not?” Track wasn't keen on burying her with his brothers, that's for sure. Neither was he, though. He just wanted her out of the way.  
The Jedi was the same height as them, but she looked smaller than usual then. Caleb sat there with her against the same rock, not half an hour earlier. Surely he wasn't a traitor as well? Or was Billaba unstable enough to drag her child into the Council’s machinations? She was mad enough to bring him to war, so who knew?  
Grey ignored the bile in his throat as he pushed the body with his foot. Her head simply fell to the side. Right. He fired that first shot.  
Caleb got away. Being a small child worked in his favor that night, but he wasn't trained to survive without someone to watch over him. They'd find him soon enough in the city. That, or he'd starve.  
The camps are quiet for many nights after that. They bury their dead, they eat, they sleep and patrol. The Kallerans still won't house them in the regional capital.  
Styles sleeps like a rock. Grey does not. How can he? And how can his brother sleep so soundly, anyway? They killed--a traitor to the Republic.  
A traitor.  
They gave her a more merciful death than the courts would, that's for sure. A member of the Jedi High Council who committed high treason would be absolutely crucified. He tried his best to rest later. He needed to stay alert if he was going to command. Getting too comfortable would get him fragged. Surely not all of his men approved of what happened.  
He failed. But he was used to that by then.  
They've hunted the baby Jedi for almost a week and a half now. He's a sneaky little bugger, they can give him that.  
General Billaba has been gone for a week and a half now.  
Commander Grey has been in charge of the remaining troops since then. Commander, because he still hasn't been promoted officially. He's looked to his side more than once to seek an opinion and found no one. Force of habit, of course.  
Operation: Knightfall was in effect for fifteen days when Kenobi returned from Utapau to the Temple to warn the other Jedi away. Grey thinks he looks exhausted and...sad. Unimaginably sad.  
A memory floats to the surface of his mind. General Billaba, before shipping off, with her arms around his neck, whispering an assurance. She probably did think she'd return to the Temple. The Temple where her body should've been burned in the event of her death, so that her soul would be free to join the Living Force.  
He didn't say anything then. But he was instantly suspicious of Caleb. Caleb Dume and his dark hair, and big blue eyes. It was fairly clear that she was involved in his making. They shared the same face. Black hair that curled when it was short, large eyes, the same nose and smile...She was certainly a beautiful woman, and he was a cute kid.  
He almost brought his concerns up in part when Caleb was injured before Mygeeto. Kid couldn't hear anything he wasn't supposed to in bacta. The boys did have a secret betting pool going too.  
But he left it. It felt disrespectful to speculate.  
And now, there was no point.  
\- .. -- . --. --- . ... --- -.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not incredible, but here's some continuity. It's actually tougher to do this on my computer than I thought, so let me know if there's any formatting issues here.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a larger reimagining of canon. If you have questions about the setting or characters, feel free to shoot me a message over at fn-57821 on tumblr, or ask padmestrawberrie since this is her AU too.


End file.
